Chapter Text
The dragon roared, and Bull roared back, dodging a hot blast of flame, raising his axe to charge.
The dragon disappeared, as did his axe.
He felt a presence behind him and turned.
“Solas, what the fuck,” complained Bull. “That was a good dream!”
Solas looked nervous.
“My apologies, The Iron Bull,” he said. “I… may have a favor to ask of you.”
Bull raised an eyebrow.
“A fucking favor? Really?” he said. “I thought you were over this making grand plans shit. That was a forfeit, wasn’t it? The little wolf?”
Solas chuckled.
“Yes,” he explained. “The favor is… personal.”
Bull crossed his arms.
“I mean, it looked like you didn’t need any personal help earlier,” he said pointedly. “Looked like you and the Boss were doing just fine.”
Solas rubbed his face.
“She asks for nothing for herself,” he said. “She will not ask, because she fears to press or disappoint. And she does not feel the pull of desire in the same way that you and I do.”
Suddenly some things that had confused him about the Boss for years clicked into place.
“I’m not going to ask if you pressured her into anything,” Bull said, “I know you’re not that guy.”
Solas shook his head.
“She does not see it in that way, and I did not intend to, but I fear that I did anyway,” he said. “You and she are close.”
“Not like that, Solas,” said Bull.
Solas sighed.
“Close, Iron Bull,” he said. “Not her lover. You have been her dear friend. Perhaps engaged in games of sensation as a friend.”
Bull laughed.
“The stick, yeah,” he said, '‘but we didn’t use the actual stick. We wrestled. Clothes on. And yeah, she doesn’t ask for shit. You gotta pull it out of her.”
‘Exactly!” Solas said, relieved.
“Uh,” said Bull, “We… uh… your sketchbook might have fallen open when we were uh… visiting. If that was drawn from life, doesn't look like you need my help with that either.”
“You are familiar with the uses of rope,” Solas said bluntly. “In an intimate context. She is very familiar with it, and enjoys it, but has had little opportunity to indulge since she left her clan. I do not believe she has ever played with it intentionally as a game of sensation, but I think that she would like to, greatly. I was not comfortable with the idea, and asked her to show me. Once. It was far more enjoyable than I had expected, but I would not injure her through my lack of skill, and I would not have her think that it was something that I did reluctantly only to please her. And I do not think that she would ask because I fear that I spoiled it for her by becoming carried away, and then failed to hide my disappointment in myself. I fear that she saw it as an expression of disappointment in her. She would never tell me if she did.”
Bull laughed.
“So you want lessons?” he asked.
“Essentially,” Solas said. “If you would be willing.”
“Sure, yeah,” said Bull, “As long as it’s just rope, just to be clear. Not that it wouldn’t be hot, if it was sex too, but I don’t sneak around behind people’s backs. And I don’t want to attract demons or some shit.”
Solas looked exasperated.
“That is not how it works,” he said. “Two people who are… intimate with one another in the Fade would not attract the attention of spirits in the same way that attempting to be intimate with a spirit might change its nature.”
“Huh,” said Bull, “So like, me and Dorian could….”
“No,” said Solas flatly, “Dorian is a mage, but not a Dreamer.”
He cocked his head, as if he was listening to something.
“She is persistent,” he said. “I am having difficulty keeping her out. I think that I may be able to make a connection for her alone with Dorian, if he takes lyrium before he sleeps. Or she might be able to manage it on her own, now. But she has not yet dreamed with him, and so I do not know that she would know how to find him in the Fade.”
“Then how are you here talking to me?” Bull asked. “If the Boss can’t talk with Dorian. I’m not a fuckin’ mage.”
Solas got that smug little asshole look.
“I am the Dread Wolf,” he said. “And the dreams of the Titans are calmer now, and no longer preventing our connection to the rest of the Fade. Though she is adept at tracking me throughout the Fade, she does not dream like a mage, at least not yet. Dorian would need to be prepared to speak with her. If you would tell him of our plan, that she might be distracted, I would not spoil the surprise for her.”
Bull rubbed his face.
“This is gettin’ too fuckin’ complicated, Solas,” he said. “Cut the shit. Bring the boss here, let me talk to her. And get Dorian in here if you can.”
The dream shifted from the bare ground in the Hinterlands where he had fought that first dragon to the rotunda at Skyhold.
“Bull!” the Boss said delightedly, running to them, “Dorian!”
She let out a little punched exhale as Bull swept her off her feet into a crushing hug. Dorian was only a heartbeat later.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Dorian murmured into her hair.
“It is difficult to hold the dream,” said Solas, “but growing easier. She has a talent for finding people in the Fade, and the Fade is very responsive to her. It seems to be easing the connection for those she loves. It is fascinating.”
The Boss squirmed against him, and he put her down.
She was still clinging to him and Dorian, but she turned to look at Solas.
“What are you doing?” she asked, suspiciously. “You’re up to something. And it isn’t a fond reunion.”
Bull laughed.
“She’s got you there, Solas,” he chuckled. “You want to tell her?”
Solas blushed.
“I was seeking The Iron Bull’s assistance with a… personal matter,” he explained, “I did not wish to trouble you. And matters have somewhat progressed beyond my control. I was hoping for more discretion.”
“What?” said Dorian, snapping his head to look at Solas, who was entirely red at this point. “You want to… with Bull? When in dreams, I suppose. I can’t say I’ve never had a wild dream. Not one with an actual person in it, but I suppose it’s not any different from any other fantasy.” Bull, for his own part, was laughing too hard to clear up the misconception.
“That is… I was not… vhenan!” Solas spluttered.
“No?” she asked, throwing a wicked look at Bull. “If would be alright with Dorian and Bull, it’s fine with me. I wish you would have said something first, but I can see why you would want to ask Bull and Dorian first before you talked with me about it.”
Dorian looked down at Lavellan.
“You seriously wouldn’t be bothered at the thought of your lover with someone else?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Seriously, not you or Bull, I don’t think,” she explained. “We’re all friends. But I think you would be.”
“Earlier, yes,” said Dorian. “Now? With another man? In a dream? It’s not like I haven’t had certain amorous adventures with multiple people at one time in my misspent youth. I think I’d rather be involved, in that event, but Bull and I have been together a long time, now.”
Bull couldn’t resist.
“What do you think, kadan?” he asked Dorian. “Don’t you think Solas would look pretty with that sassy mouth full?”
Lavellan stifled a giggle. The Boss always did have a good sense of humor.
“I did not come to ask The Iron Bull to lay with me!” snapped Solas.
“Kaffas,” said Dorian. “That… was quite the mental image. A rather good one, but entirely unexpected. No, then?”
“Fenedhis lasa,” mumbled Solas. “Are you entirely satisfied at my expense, The Iron Bull?”
Dorian snickered.
“Well, you’d have to do better than than just talking, Solas,” Dorian quipped. “If you want to satisfy Bull.”
If Solas got any more red, Bull thought the tips of his ears might spontaneously combust.
“Vhenan,” pleaded Solas.
She stretched her hand out to Solas and pulled him, somewhat reluctantly, into the group.
Bull rested a hand on Solas’ shoulder. He was stiff, for a moment, then relaxed. Slightly.
“Solas was curious about rope, Boss. Kadan.” Bull said.
The Boss cozied her head against Solas.
“You wanted it to be a surprise,” she said. “So you asked Bull instead of me.”
“I did,” replied Solas, somewhat stiffly, “But matters got somewhat out of hand.”
“Like the stick?” asked Dorian. “You know you don’t need to ask about that.”
“Yeah,” answered Bull, “With the Boss. But everything with Solas seems like it always gets more complicated. Wanted to check with you, kadan.”
Solas barked a quick laugh.
“I suppose I cannot disagree with that assessment, Iron Bull,” he said.
“So what’s going on?” the Boss asked quietly.
“Well,” said Dorian, “I suppose we should figure that out.”
It had been somewhat of a fraught discussion, Solas thought, sitting on the steps with Iron Bull. He had not realized entirely how very close she had been to Dorian and to The Iron Bull. And they seemed willing to invite him into that closeness, though Bull perhaps more than Dorian. He and Bull had always understood each other more, as he thought she did as well, though she loved Dorian no less. She was the pivot point, or perhaps it was she and The Iron Bull, a triad of her, Iron Bull and Dorian, and, perhaps, a triad of her, Iron Bull, and him, with both The Iron Bull and Dorian and he and her as separate pairings. Perhaps it could have been all four of them once, and perhaps it might be again, but he thought that there was still too much hurt there for Dorian at the moment, or perhaps it was his own wariness, now that Dorian was Archon, working to reform a system inherently prone to abuse, rather than trying to abolish it entirely. Friends, still, surprisingly, after everything, but without that level of deep trust that flowed between she and Bull and Dorian. He was somewhat surprised that Bull was willing to extend that trust to him, but he supposed it was because she did. Or perhaps it was that Bull could understand being betrayed by those he had trusted, by having his loyalty tested. Or that Bull could better understand the things that one might do in service to a cause or a set of ideals, and the cost to your sense of self.
He thought that perhaps it would have been better for her, if she had stayed with Bull and Dorian, if he had never confessed to never forgetting the kiss, that she might have been happier, that she could have had her friendships, her games of sensation, but not felt the overwhelming pressure of his love for her. He wanted to make her happy, and feared that he was too much, and somehow not enough.
Dorian had excused himself from the discussion with a “Not really my thing, rope for the sake of it, but I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine.” She had joined Dorian, with a gentle hand on Bull’s shoulder. He turned his attention back to The Iron Bull.
“So Solas,” said Bull, “When you did ropes with the Boss, what did she show you?”
“Some basic ties,” he answered. “She demonstrated on herself, and let me practice on her ankle. I believe it was how she would have shown a hunter’s apprentice. She tied a chest harness on me, after she did a harness for her hips and chest on herself, and bound her legs. I found the chest harness to be… surprisingly pleasant.”
“But you want to learn to tie,” Bull probed.
“I am still somewhat uncomfortable with the idea,” he confessed. “But I know that she would like to be bound, and she asks for nothing and gives everything.”
Bull rubbed his face.
“You have any problems watching me tie the Boss?” he asked.
Solas considered this. He thought, over all, that he did not. Sex, he thought, he might feel jealousy over, especially because he knew that it was complicated for her, but this type of intimacy he did not.
He shook his head. “I do not believe so,” he answered, “Not… not as a thing between friends. For her, this is a game of sensation. Not a part of sex.”
Bull nodded. “That way between you, too, huh?” he guessed shrewdly. “Smart, keeping it separate. Power play, I’m guessing, but not… this kinda thing.”
Solas nodded abruptly. Bull studied him for a long moment. Solas was unsure what he was looking for.
“Hey!” Bull yelled, “Boss! Dorian!”
They walked down the stairs to sit behind them.
“Didn’t know you liked rope, Boss,” Bull said. “We could have talked about it, shared technique, maybe played around a little. You must have heard folks talk.”
“Not with the Anchor,” she said. “Couldn’t trust it not to flare, and I didn’t want to be in rope if it happened.”
“And…” probed Bull.
“And you know perfectly well I needed to fight you, Bull,” she said.
Bull smiled.
“And now?” Bull asked.
She smiled and shook her head.
“I don’t think I can be that soft with you, Bull,” she answered. “I’d need the fight. I think too much. And I think you’d get bored if I was.”
Bull laughed.
“S’what I thought, Boss,” he said, “How about we work on it together.”
She considered, pensive.
“That might work,” she said.
“Solas?” Bull asked.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “I think I would like that as well.”
“Dorian?” Bull asked.
“You know what,” said Dorian, thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m particularly interested in these little games unless they are of a more… intimate nature. But you all have fun, and Bull can tell me all about it later.”
She laughed.
“Oh really, Dorian?” she teased.
“Well,” Dorian said sheepishly, “You know how it is. I do like to talk.”
“Alright,” said Bull, “You two shoo. I gotta go over some things with Solas still.”
He watched as she gave Bull a searching look and he nodded. She and Dorian wandered off to his alcove again talking with animation. Solas was watching them walk away, his eyes sad, his brow creased.
“You’re thinking you’re not enough, Solas,” Bull said, leaning forward. “You’re thinking she should have stayed with me and Dorian. But the Boss isn’t soft for anyone. She had to fight me to let go. But she’s soft with you. That’s special.”
“I fear I am too much, The Iron Bull,” said Solas, quietly. “She would give me everything, and yield herself entirely, and I fear that I will take too much.”
Bull leaned back.
“Okay,” he said. “I can work with that. Let me talk with the Boss.”
Bull was looking forward to this, to be honest.
They’d gone to the rookery to finish their chat.
“Shoulders still shit?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Unfortunately, being intrinsically woven into the Fade doesn’t seem to magically fix everything,” she said. “But it’s not really an issue in dreams like this.”
Her wooden hand bled into the flesh and blood version and she waved, then it vanished entirely.
“And I can do things like this,” she said. “Whatever’s easiest for you to tie.”
Bull narrowed his eyes.
“That shit’s not going to attract demons is it?” he asked suspiciously.
She giggled.
“No, just me. Not adding anything new, or taking it away,” she said.
He wasn’t convinced, but she’d probably be the one to know.
“You got anything you want?” he asked.
“I’d like to fly,” she said, “In rope. Again. I’ve done it before, when I was hunting, or being used for practice so people could learn how to string up game for butchering, but not with someone else, like this. And I haven’t since the Anchor on my own. Not sure I can relax into it, like I’d like to, with someone else tying, though. Or with more than one person involved. Too much to think about. And I need to figure out what to do with the arm.”
She did that little furrow in her brow that she got when she was thinking, worried a little.
“Solas has… there’s something there for him with restraint that bothers him, and something he likes, and I don’t know what it is,” she continued. “Not just restraint, everything, really, but it’s more, with restraint, I think. If he can sketch, he seems easier, but that’s not really something for rope, when you’re learning. It might just be he’s having ‘I don’t want to become a god’ feelings, but I think he’s worried about me, specifically. Or not me, specifically, but I think he hasn’t forgiven himself, that he doesn’t feel like he deserves to want things. I’m not entirely sure he knows he’s doing it. And I don’t want to push him past where he’s comfortable. I think he could use a little guidance, from someone with experience who he’s not in love with. A friend. It’s different, I think, when you love someone, like he loves me. Like he can’t believe that I’m seeing him clearly. I think maybe he’d believe it more from a friend.”
Yeah. That made everything a lot clearer.
“You’d be real good at this, Boss, you know?” he said, “You’re good at getting in people’s heads, finding out what they need. You want to give it a shot?”
“I could do rope, I think,” she said. “Or knives. And I think it would be nice for Solas to not have to think for once, but I don’t know that I want to do it, on my own. With you, maybe. I like rope, I like working with it, I liked tying, just…”
“You don’t want to be in charge,” Bull finished. “I get it. Kinda looking forward to seeing how different you are with Solas, though.”
She blushed.
“You have a plan now?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Think so.”
“Let me get Solas, then,” she said, and slipped away.
He’d talked with Dorian a little bit more while she talked with Solas. They’d agreed on some ground rules. Dorian kinda thought it would be weird for him to do anything sexy with the boss, but didn’t have a problem if him and Solas came up. He kinda agreed, especially after they’d all had that talk about it, back when Dorian was still trying to push him away. He liked how things were with her. Didn’t want to complicate things. And he thought that would be a hard no from her anyway, regardless. Solas, on the other hand, was already complicated, but he was also completely gone on her, so Bull was pretty sure he wouldn’t be interested unless the Boss was involved somehow, and that seemed like something the Boss wouldn’t be into, and also not like what Solas was looking for, at least not right now. They’d all seen each other naked before, so that wasn’t an issue, between him and Dorian, anyway, though he thought he’d keep his pants on. Didn’t want to make things weird for the Boss, if he got turned on, and he probably would. He had to admit, Dorian had made a kind of hot little fantasy about it, though, and had seemed really into it this time. Not like he had when he’d been pushing Bull towards the Boss. And Bull was definitely allowed to watch, if things got interesting between Solas and the Boss, if they were into him watching, especially if he told Dorian how much he’d wanted to come back to Dorian afterwards.
Solas was always a little wary. It would be hard for him to let go. Easy, with the Boss, maybe, just as she had an easier time with Solas. In some ways, he thought, Solas was right, it might have been simpler for her if the Boss and him and Dorian had just had something together, if she’d never fallen for Solas. She wouldn’t have minded him and Dorian, would have been relieved, probably, and they could have just done the stick together. He liked doing it with sex, but there was something fun about doing it to just take someone apart, too. Most people just wanted it with the sex, though. On the other hand, he hadn’t realized that what he’d thought was coming on to him was her curiosity, and he probably would have come on strong enough that he wouldn’t have noticed she wasn’t into it, if Solas had difficulty noticing. The Boss was a real good liar, better than he’d thought initially. Or maybe it would have freaked her out enough that it never would have gotten that far. But, he thought, the Boss and Solas had something special.
Both of them were… real intense people. She had a hard time showing that to people, as did Solas. And Solas was definitely better with her. He thought maybe the Boss was just always on guard. But he’d never really seen them together, except that once at the Winter Palace, from down the hall, when she’d blushed and looked sweet for a moment, and again when he seen them dancing through the windows, and both of them had looked like they’d already saved the whole world, or maybe that the world only existed when the two of them were together.
“Iron Bull,” Solas greeted him, as they walked up. “Shall we?”
“Yeah,” said Bull. “Let’s go.”
The Boss stepped back first, pulled a length of gray-gold jute into her hand, with that little impish smile.
“Come with me, vhenan,” she said, holding out her wooden hand, and Solas laughed, some little joke shared between them, he guessed.
“You want to show me what you got first, Boss?” Bull asked. “Kinda wanna see how you tie one-handed. Neat trick.”
She nodded, and the dream shimmered and shifted, and they were at that waterfall in Crestwood where they had gotten to fight all those wyverns. It was night now, in the dream, but that had been a fun day. This dream looked to be fun too.
It was beautiful here, and it would be good, she thought, to make another good memory in this place.
She looked up at Bull, cocked her head to the side, calculating.
“Can you sit down, maybe?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my tension right if I have to fling the rope over your shoulder.”
Bull laughed, and sat down, unbuckling his pauldron and laying it aside. She knelt behind Bull. Solas sat in front, intent.
They chatted as she worked. She liked jute better, the way it hissed, the way it smelled, the rougher bite of the fibers, but he’d thought Solas would look real pretty in red hemp or silk, and she’d laughed and agreed. Solas, for his part, had blushed, and Bull had flirted with him.
“Get you all wrapped up in red, Fadewalker,” Bull had said slyly, “match that pretty blush to that rope.”
She personally thought Bull looked good in the harsher natural fibers of the jute, the lightly singed smell. It suited him.
“Like you got lightly toasted by a dragon, Bull,” she teased, leaning against Bull’s strong back, to drape herself over him to get the first shoulder strap complete, drawing the rustling rope under the wrap.
“Taarsidath-an halsaam,” Bull had rumbled, appreciatively, and she’d had to stop for a moment to finish laughing, and Solas had chuckled lightly too. She was glad he was starting to relax.
“Check Bull’s hands for me, vhenan?” she asked, finishing the tie, and watched as Solas checked Bull’s ability to grip. She caught Bull watching as intently as she was. He was doing a good job. It had taken two extra lengths of rope to run a mabari harness on Bull; she thought it looked better with a thicker wrap to suit his frame. She weaved the last of the ends in and gave the final knot a satisfied little shake and a pat.
“Nice, Boss,” Bull commented, turning to look at her. “You’re real good at this shit, you know. If I’d known you could tie, I might have asked for this earlier. Could’a been a tamassran.”
She smiled wickedly.
“Just as long as you don’t ask me to pull out the saartoh nehrappan, Bull,” she said, “it would look too ridiculous, like one of those little Orlesian lap dogs and a Mabari,” and Bull almost fell over laughing.
“Leather strapped… rod?” asked Solas, perplexed, and she’d started laughing as Bull made some wildly obscene explanatory hand gestures and Solas had nodded and rattled off something in elvhen too quick for her to catch all of the meaning, but what she did catch sounded remarkably technical, and then some more things in Qunlat, and Bull had looked impressed and nodded.
“Huh,” he said. “Nice. Knew the ancient elves were into some freaky shit. Good invention. You think…”
Solas laughed.
“Yes, I am certain it is within Dorian’s capabilities,” he said. “If he can break into the Fade, he could certainly manage the creation of such a simple automaton. Indeed, I would be greatly surprised if Tevinter did not have such innovations already.”
Bull turned back to her, as she sat back on her heels.
“You got any ideas, Boss?” asked Bull. “On the best way to tie you? I kinda want to figure out how to do this without the arm. You can’t change it awake, right?”
Practicing on her with Bull supervising was a good opportunity for Solas to learn, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to be experimented on either, not ready to be the center of attention, though she had a lot of fun tying with Bull like this, like she would have tied another hunter back with her clan, friendly, comparing technique. It was different, she thought, with Solas. There was a hunger there, with him that pushed it out of the realm of artistry into feeling, and she didn’t think she was ready to be that vulnerable with them both yet. She did want to see if Solas could let go though, and she exchanged a look with Bull, a cock of the head in question, and Bull nodded.
“Solas?” she asked. “Can we borrow you for a little bit?”
“Ma nuvenin,” he said.
“We gotta do him in red, Boss,” said Bull. “He’ll look so good in red.”
She laughed.
“Fine, we’ll do him in red,” she said.
She looked up at the shaft of moonlight that filtered into the cavern.
Let’s go to the gardens at Skyhold,” she suggested. “Better light.”
The dream rippled, and he knelt in the grass of the gardens at Skyhold in the warm sun beneath a stone arch, the smell of crushed grass and the ever present aroma of elfroot and ripe apples that wafted through Skyhold’s gardens on a gentle breeze. Bull was a comforting presence behind him, while she knelt in front of him, his knees spread wide on the outside of hers.
“Nice,” said Bull, “Now, Solas, normally I’d like to let the arms catch some of the strain, if you’re going to fly, rig the arms and the chest together. But, when you’re doing this on her, her shoulders are shit, so we’ll tie the chest harness first. We’ll tie the arms to that, rather than doing it all together. She said it wasn’t a problem in the Fade, but if you want to take it out of the Fade…”
She laughed, and he turned his head to see Bull waggling his brows suggestively.
She drew a length of red hemp from the Fade, dyed in the same color as the Dalish sails, and he watched as she drew it through her hand, passed the bight behind to Bull, who held it in the center of Solas back.
“You’re real fuckin’ sweet like this, Solas,” said Bull, as he and she passed the rope between them, holding him close between them, the light, heady fragrance of the hemp almost cloying in the bright air of the gardens.
“He’s always sweet, Bull,” she said, reprovingly.
He was not.
He was frequently irascible and grim and contentious. He felt a lump in his throat.
She lifted a hand to his cheek, brushed a drop of dampness away.
He blinked, his eyes hazy.
“You okay?” she asked softly, and he nodded.
“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he answered.
“See,” she told Bull, against the face of all evidence to the contrary. “Sweet.”
He felt safe with them, contained within himself, bound with care and love and his own want, his burning love and desire for her, the grateful love of a friendship that he had thought lost.
He should have paid more attention as she and Bull, both experts in their shared art, discussed how they might make accommodations for her single arm, how they arranged his arms, one at his side, the other with the hand resting on that shoulder, both resting over his stomach, discussed the merits. He found himself unable to attend, his mind floating free, lost in the sensation of the rope on his skin, the shift of the tension biting in and loosening as he breathed slow and easy. They had ultimately bound his arms in front of him, Bull in front and she behind, steadying, the rope gently wrapped around both of his biceps, the forearms bound to one another.
Bull checked his grip, and he squeezed, hard.
Bull looked at him, calculating.
“Gonna leave you here for a minute, Solas, while I talk something out with the Boss,” Bull said, and Solas nodded.
He watched as his heart stepped to The Iron Bull, as they spoke, quietly, seriously, while she efficiently tied a hip harness, golden gray jute, rough against the smoothness of her soft tunic and leggings.
He was not jealous, or perhaps not jealous of Bull; rather jealous that she was able to experience a sensation that he hungered for. She was beautiful in the exercise of her skill, and he wanted to be the one to feel the rope rough against his palms, to gently adjust a crossing line so it lay smooth over her hip, to watch her breath catch as the rope grew taut.
She walked back to him, straddled his thigh, wrapped her arms around him. He whimpered, pressed himself against her.
She snuggled her head against his chest and turned her head to sneeze.
“You really don’t like hemp, Boss,” Bull commented.
She lifted her head from Solas’ shoulder, smiled over it at Bull.
“Not really,” she said.
Bull took hold of the ropes, curled himself around Solas, Bull’s chest harness rough against his back, the jute biting into his shoulder where he held them both tightly, and her hair was getting wet, from where he had his face pressed against it, he was breathing in little sobbing gasps, and Bull pulled his head up, a big hand under his chin, and he was gasping, rocking his hips against hers. Bull’s hand was on his hip, his other sliding down to her hip rope, helping him move against her, pulling her down onto his thigh. He thought to turn his head away, to seek Bull’s lips, desperate to please, the payment for this affection and care, and Bull chuckled, and he could feel the rumble of Bull’s mirth through his spine, his ribs, and her little giggle at his desperate gasp.
“Not this time, Solas,” Bull said, “You’re rope drunk. Hot, but rope drunk. We’ve got you.”
“This was supposed to be for her,” he lamented damply.
“It is,” she said softly, “and it’s for all of us. Let go, vhenan. We’ve got you.”
He wept against her shoulder, sobbing into it, Bull’s cheek against the smooth skin of his scalp while they held him anchored into himself until he felt empty and eased. Bull rubbed his back, and she untied his arms. He reached out to stroke her face, and she kissed his palm.
He gathered himself.
“Thank you, The Iron Bull,” he said formally. “I had not realized how much I needed that.”
Bull grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.
“You two are scary alike, you know that?” he said. “Except Solas is way more of an asshole than you are, Boss.”
Solas laughed.
“She is vastly superior,” he said. “But yes. I am an ass.”